Shapes of Men nor Beasts We Ken
by whatevergirl
Summary: Based on S.T. Coleridge's 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.' Killian tells of a time when he was a young man in the navy and the ship he served on was was lost at sea... and the horrors that followed.
1. Chapter 1

_Neither Once Upon a Time, nor FFX nor any other fandom that may creep in belongs to me. I make no money from this._

 _Although I have sort of based it in the world of FFX and Dragon Age, that was more so I could have something to reference in terms of maps and positioning. Therefore, familiar names may crop up at certain points, but I don't plan to have anyone interact with Yuna or the Warden Commander or anyone like that._

* * *

Henry was sat watching Killian as the man stared out towards the horizon. They were sailing about the harbour of Storybrooke, and as much as Henry would like to head out to the open sea, the captain was careful to keep them within the town's limits.

"You're awfully quiet, lad." Killian's blue eyes focused on Henry as the boy ran his fingers over the grubby boards of the deck.

"Don't you wish you could head out and go pirating?" he asked, eyes flicking towards Mr Smee as he sent one of the few crewmembers below deck.

"Got a thirst for the deep, blue sea, have we?" Killian grinned at him. "We can't go beyond the limits or we can't get back, and I doubt any of your Charming family would appreciate that."

He sighed, acknowledging the truth but unwilling to let go of the daydreams that had been drifting through his mind.

"Besides," Killian continued, unaware of what exactly was drifting through Henry's mind, "I have no maps for this realm. I don't want to sail away from the one port I know with no way back, no way to reach another realm and no maps to find another safe place to stop."

"But that's how you have adventures!" he insisted. "Anyway, I have my cell phone so my mom could come and guide us back into town."

"She'd take you back, sure." The pirate gave him a wan smile before calling one of his crew over to take the helm. I once did that you know."

"Had adventures?" Henry asked, but he shifted into a more comfortable position, eager to hear a new story.

"Aye, that too. But I mean I once sailed without a map. We didn't mean to, but we knocked off course by a storm and ended up in territories our navy hadn't charted."

"Your navy? You were in the navy?"

"Aye. Since I was about twelve years. This particular time though, I was about nineteen years old, and a midshipman."

"What was your navy like? Was it the same as ours?" Henry asked, interested to hear of a realm different to both his own and his grandparents.

"I have no idea what your navy is like." Killian replied, the blank look on his face was one he often wore when considering things of this world. "But ours was strict when you were near port, more lax when further away and frequently unbending in its superstitions."

"So, this storm?" Henry asked, keen to get them back on track.

* * *

The storm was something that, in later years, Killian would not wish one even Blackbeard. Of course, it had all started well, the whole trip. The sun had been blazing when they left Luca, no more than a few wisps of cloud in the sky that tracked quickly with the strong wind over to the East as they set out.

Killian had said goodbye to his brother by the restrooms in the stadium, thankful that it was off season and he could have this moment.

"Sail well, little brother." Liam said, ignoring the frown that briefly creased Killian's forehead at the word 'little'. "When you return, I hear you will be promoted to Lieutenant."

"Already?" the younger man looked curiously up at his brother. "I thought you said I wouldn't be promoted for at least five years once I reached midshipman? It's only just been two!"

"I am getting promoted to Captain soon. Part of the process involved discussing different people to promote and the reasons behind it. Naturally, you were brought up to see if I could be fair. I assume I was successful because I saw your name on the papers last week."

"Do you think it's too soon?" Killian asked softly, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer. His brother's opinion was everything.

"No. You work hard and you learn fast." A heavy hand fell on the younger man's shoulder. "Promotion is a good thing. Don't look so worried."

"Right." Killian nodded his head and pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "I'd best head off."

"Let's get you presentable first." Liam grinned and tugged the band out the dark strands of Killian's hair, before deftly replacing it. "Sail well, brother. The captain you travel with is a fool, but his parents are rich so the work will fall to the officers and of course, the officers in training."

"There are only two of us training on this voyage."

"Make sure you learn from the right superior." Liam embraced him, and Killian headed back out towards the ship, his posture straightening as he approached the gangplank.

* * *

"Said goodbye to your brother, got it. Then what?"

"Have a little patience, mate. We'll get there." But Killian relaxed as he spoke, happy to have such an interested audience.


	2. Chapter 2

"Captain?" Smee shuffled over to the pirate and his enraptured audience of one. "We taking the boy back soon or is he staying aboard for the night?"

"I reckon his mother will want him home." Killian replied, allowing the man to speak before he got back to storytelling.

"We could always phone her." Henry said, his eyes shining with hope that he would be allowed to sleep on a pirate ship. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"I'm not entirely sure where I put the machine." The captain pulled a face, his displeasure at the use of modern technology evident in the expression.

"I'll ring her." The boy brightly stated, pulling out his phone and ringing his mother more deftly than Killian had yet managed.

As the boy began to plead with his mother, Killian walked back to the helm, running his finger over the scratchings on the wood. Port and Starboard. First etched into the wood to help another young boy whose eyes didn't shine so brightly with instant trust. Baelfire had been hesitant to trust adults, convinced that they would betray him… he supposed that he had done nothing to help the boy in that regard. He had allowed Pan's boys to take him.

Killian honestly believed that if Baelfire had said that he wanted to stay aboard the Jolly Roger and sail with him, then he would have once again hidden him from the Lost Boys… but it had felt like little comfort those first few months after he had let the boy go in another attempt to leave Neverland.

And now he had Baelfire's son here, so desperate to have an adventure of his own that he didn't realise most adventures involved some element of pain or tragedy. But perhaps that was a trait all boys of a certain age shared, even Killian at the age of twelve had signed up to the navy with his brother's backing, determined to do something more exciting than working in a workhouse and trying to earn enough money to live off. He had had a taste of the sea air when his father had suddenly decided they were to go sailing, and Killian had been in love with that same sea air ever since.

"She said I can."

"Pardon?" Killian looked down at the grinning face of Henry Mills, the boy jolting him back to the present. "Ah, you can stay. Well then, lad. Do you want to hear more?"

"Please!"

They moved to the stern, and Henry sat cross legged on the floor as the pirate leaned against the side of the ship.

"As I said, we had set sail in glorious weather, people cheering as we headed out."

"Why were they cheering?"

"To show the spirits that the sailors were loved, in the hope that they would protect the ship on her voyages."

"Huh… so if people set sail in the dead of night, your spirits would assume no one cared about these people."

"Yes. In our realm, criminals only went to sea if they were desperate."

"What about pirates?"

"We sailed into port only when necessary, and then it would be a small harbour. I always encouraged the men to get to know as many people as possible. Make as many friends and as few enemies so that when we left, the townsfolk would cheer for us."

"What about pirating?" Henry's face was pulled into a frown, probably imagining them raiding villages and ransacking the armouries.

"Pirating is done at sea." Killian grinned at him. "Anyway, I think it was about a week we sailed in hot weather. Theoretically, very nice. But on a ship you are working hard and the heat can be unbearable."

"Did it cool down after the first week then?"

"We encountered storms, the like of which I had never seen in my seven years sailing."

* * *

Thunder crashed loudly above them, barely a second after the lightning had flashed, but Killian didn't seen it and he paid no mind to the noise. They churning sea spat out violent waves that rocked the ship, and the midshipman was desperately trying to tie all the loose cannons in place. Further down, he could see Harold doing the same, though the sailor was unable to hear the words his peer was yelling over the storm.

He was supposed to be keeping track of their course, focussing on the navigation and leaving this to others, but a loose cannon could crush a man and all hands had to be put to work. The storm was tyrannous and strong, and the ship threatened to capsize more than once.

The rope burnt his fingers as he desperately fastened the knots, blinking in the dim light as he tried to see how competently other knots had been done. Thunder crashed again, but the deafening roar did not make him flinch, his head already pounded with the volume and he had to keep a check.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and when it pulled, Killian turned to see Lieutenant Willis behind him.

"Up on deck, Jones." He watched the man say, the words barely audible. "We're going to try outrun the storm."

"You're mad!" he exclaimed, but took the offered spyglass and headed up.

On deck, the weather was intense. The rain lashed down in a heavy flood and the winds battered the vessel as she struggled on. Once on deck, he widened his stance to help counter the movement of the ship as he hurried over to the helm, where Dominic clung to the wheel and a wall of water rose behind him.

"Thank goodness this is on our outward journey." The red-headed man shouted once Killian was beside him. "We've enough cargo so far to keep us upright."

"Turn the ship. We need to head into the waves."

"They're going the wrong way. We're to head East."

"East isn't possible, not in this weather." Killian pulled out his compass, wiping away the water that dripped down his face. "South. We'll be heading south but if we go with it we'll get out of this storm."

"The Captain won't be happy."

"Until the Captain makes an appearance I don't think he should get a say." He stuffed the compass in his pocket and looked through his spyglass. There was a light to the south that may indicate an end to the storm.

"Lieutenant Willis is over there." Dominic said, though he didn't seem to be looking, his attention was held rather by the helm.

Killian hurried as quickly as he dared over to the lieutenant, shivering as the wind assaulted him through his drenched clothing. He ignored the cloth as it stuck to his skin though, determined to get them out of the bad weather.

"Man overboard!" The cry was now possible to hear faintly over the storm, but Killian didn't pause and try to find the man in the raging waters. They needed to get away before the whole ship went over.

"Willis? Lieutenant?" Killian called, but had to move over and grip the man's shoulder before he was acknowledged. The officer's face was pale, drawn with worry and his eyes haunted.

"Jones?"

"I think I see an end to the storm, sir. But we will need to head south."

"I've had reports of at least three men overboard. Will the storm follow us?"

"With winds like this I think we can outrun it."

"Aye. Let's head south then."

With that Killian nearly ran back to the helm, slipping once but as desperate as any other man aboard the ship to evade the terrible fate that chasing them.

"Dominic? We head south. Point the ship into the waves and let's get away from this storm blast."

"Aye!"

With the wind howling as though it came from a spirit disturbed by the clamour of the storm, Killian crouched down and prayed to the Maker, and once the light was close enough to see without aid of his spyglass, the young man refused to take his eyes away from it. His stomach churned as though echoing the waves they sailed through and he hoped he had done enough to spare the rest of the men.

As the rains weakened and the thunder separated from the lightning, the men began to cheer with relief.

"Huzzah!" called Killian softly, as he convinced his legs to hold him up once more.

The intense heat was blown away with an icy blast and they sailed into seas governed by mist and snow.

* * *

"Didn't you go back for the men that went overboard?" Henry asked, his hands clenched into fists as his active imagination aided him in his experience of the story.

"No. To head back would be suicide and even if we waited until the storm had gone… Well… not many sailors know how to swim." Killian's heart was heavy. It had been the first time in his career he had ever lost anyone, and though he had been training as an officer at the time, he had felt guilt.

"Do you know how to swim?"

"Not well. I have picked up a basic understanding of it, but I couldn't survive long in the water."

"Why not?"

"Full of questions aren't you?" Killian sighed. "If Leviathan and Davy Jones want to fight over me as I sink into the waters, I want to die as quickly as possible rather than prolong my torment."

"You would want to die fast? I don't understand." Henry shifted forwards, concern etched into his face.

"That's not a fault." Killian replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.


	3. Chapter 3

The stars twinkled overhead, their pale light shining down on the ship as it bobbed in the water. Killian gazed up as more of the sparkling dots emerged, their presence a small comfort because their patterns were different to any he knew. It only cemented the fact that he was in another realm.

"Did you keep going south? After escaping the storm and leaving those men to drown?" Henry asked, the disapproval evident in his voice as he thought of men left overboard more than two centuries ago.

"Aye, mate. We went south." Killian shivered as he remembered the ice. He thought of the great frozen clumps floating in the sea, groaning with the trapped spirits and he wrapped his arms around himself.

* * *

He had never really thought of ice as haunting. They so rarely got it back home that when the weather did plummet enough, and the cold petals fell from the sky, excitement filled the air.

It was so different, Killian mused, when you couldn't just head inside and heat some water over the fire. However, there were no fireplaces aboard; and sat up in mainmast, in the crow's nest, he couldn't just head inside when he got chilly. The landscape could look beautiful, in its own way, especially now, as the sun set and the mist spread the red hue around. But the brilliant colours wouldn't last long; they never did. Soon enough, the world would be lit only by the light of the cosmos and the ship's lanterns. That was when the ice seemed more alive than ever, when the stuff glistened with moonlight and you could see shapes inside.

Up in the crow's nest, a position he occupied because he was covering for Jameson who had fallen ill with the cold, Killian could hear the noises that emerged from the ice. There had to be fierce spirits inside the murky blocks, desperate to escape. He could hear the creaking and the groaning of the ice as it fought to contain them. The sailor wondered if it was Maker or mage who had encased them within.

Some of the mountains were as tall as the foremast before him, would probably be as tall as the mainmast he sat upon if he bothered to compare, but the young man didn't. He didn't want to.

He tried not to look at the ice at all, which was a difficult task as it lurked everywhere. And so it was that everywhere, Killian could see shapes. On occasion he would turn his head, certain he had seen the shape of an aeon. But they were gone, extinct since the beginning of the Eternal Calm. Another moment, and he thought he saw a person, arms raised and moaning upon a sheet of ice.

That was impossible though, and he turned his head. Hands tucked into his armpits, he searched for a horizon, for a gap in the mist and the ice. He understood now why, after a week in this place, the men were unwilling to spend much time in the crow's nest. He'd tell Lieutenant Willis when he got down. Fours bells rang out through the icy wasteland from the ship. Killian was only two hours into his watch. He took a deep breath, feeling the cold air jolt on the way into his body and he shuddered violently. The shivering was a constant that he was learning to live with. But breathing was becoming more and more painful.

He shut his eyes for a moment and prayed to the Maker, desperate for help, for a way out. He wanted to go home, back to his brother. Liam was always so confident, he would have known what to do. He wouldn't have sat in his cabin, snapping at anyone who came nearby like their captain chose to.

He'd even take a bloody workhouse over this. They were dangerous places to be, even if you were small enough to fit in the machines. At his size, dangerous would be an understatement, but at least he would be warm. The sailor tried to recall that heat, the way the sweat had dripped off his face, and stuck his shirt to his back… it was a distant memory though, unable to thaw the icy edges of his imagination long enough to enter.

Another noise had his drooping eyes snap open once more. An echoing cry, louder than the gruesome wails of the ice. Sitting up, Killian searched the sky. The sun was dipping and through the clouds of icy mist, there was a glint; it made Killian freeze with fear.

A stymphalian bird?

His hand drifted to the old crossbow that lay in the nest, his thoughts drifted to the muskets that were stored below, but his eyes never left the bird.

Was it a stymphalian bird? Was that beak bronze, capable of tear flesh from bone? He called down to Harris, demanding he come up and take position while Killian spoke with Lieutenant Willis. While there were a few other officers on the ship, he had served with Willis before, and the man was second in command after their captain.

"What is it, boy?" Willis grumbled as he opened the door to his cabin. "You look like you've seen a Minka Bird."

"No Sir." Minka birds were only seen in dreams and they foretold death. "I saw this one awake. It was a stymphalian bird."

"Man-eaters." He sighed. "Are you sure?"

"No. Maybe." It was hard to think through the cold. He'd never experienced anything like it.

"I hope it was a hallucination brought on by this blasted weather and a lack of sleep." Willis sighed, looking older than he ever had. "Let's go up and see if it's still there."

Up on deck, Killian looked to the sky. He shuddered when he saw the creature again, just a glint of the wings, but he pointed it out nonetheless.

"See how it lets out red sparks in the light of the setting sun." He explained.

"That is a hercinia bird!" exclaimed Willis, a broad smile transforming his face with boyish excitement. "To lead us home!"

"A beacon!" cried out Dominic, who had been stitching the spare mizzen sail in the dying light of day.

"It's can't be. Sir, please!" the midshipman pleaded. "They are only seen in forests. We're out in the middle of the ocean. It makes no sense!"

"Nonsense, Jones. Have a more positive attitude, if you will." Willis turned and began to head up the deck. "We follow our good omen."

* * *

"And you thought it was a bad idea." Henry said, eager to hear more. Killian gave a nod.

"Aye. Have you encountered these birds before? They are few in number in our realm, and to have one flying so far from where it should be… it didn't seem right."

"I've never even heard of them." Henry replied, though he was fidgeting with his cell phone. "How do I spell it?"

"I don't see how that matters at the moment. You need to be heading to bed."

"Already?" The boy pulled a face, clearly unwilling to sleep yet. "Can't you finish the story?"

"Not yet. No. Tomorrow." Killian ran a hand through his hair, unsettled at even telling Henry the story. It had been a long time since he had thought about it. "Smee? A bunk for the lad?"

"Aye Captain. Come along then, laddie." Smee led Henry down to the crew quarters, answering the questions that bubbled up from the boy with patience.

Killian stood up and headed over to the helm, running his hands over her wood. He wondered if they had birds here that were capable of causing good and bad fortune. This wasn't an inherently magical land, so the animals probably wouldn't have any connection to magic either.

Maybe if he had lived in this realm, rather than his own; where luck truly was random and the not tied into the animals, to the peoples and to the land itself. But, the pirate shook his head. It was too late to think about what might have happened; two centuries too late.


End file.
